


Save a Horse

by ChynnaW



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 23:53:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12852225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChynnaW/pseuds/ChynnaW
Summary: Fingers shaking ever so slightly, Keith opened the dark photo. Whatever the thing was, it was leather and metal, all wrapped up and soft-looking. His cheeks bloomed red and Keith fought the urge to hide under his desk. He slammed his phone face down on the desk and breathed for a few more seconds.Or: Pidge and Matt set Keith and Shiro up, and shenanigans ensue.





	Save a Horse

Keith was a fully grown man. Out of college. Working at one of the best engineering firms on the west coast. Okay, maybe, he was a little lonely and maybe he worked a little too much, but he knew what he was doing and he was perfectly fine with his life. There was nothing wrong with going from work, to the second-floor apartment he shares with his friend and coworker, Pidge, right above from their friends’, then back to work the next morning. Going to the apartment was negotiable some nights, but otherwise fine.

So, Keith did not understand why on a Tuesday night, he was sitting in the kitchen with the Chinese take out he had brought home on his night to feed he and Pidge, while Pidge wrung her hands. She paced back and forth while Keith shoveled fried rice into his mouth, waiting for the inevitable terrible thing that she was about to spit out.

Last week, the terrible thing had been that the laundry mat that the usually went to on Sunday mornings less often than they should, had closed down. Until then, Keith had not thought himself to be so high maintenance that a change like that would shake him, but after Pidge’s announcement, he had chucked the dish of microwaved ravioli into the trash can and then gone into his room to ponder the existential dread that filled his veins.

"So," she began, finally, pushing her glasses up and slamming her hands against their already delicate dining room table. "Remember last week when you were freaking out about the laundry mat?"

Of course that would come back to bite him it the butt. His face contorted into something resembling a grimace around the bite of food newly shoved into his mouth.

Pidge continued on despite, or perhaps because of his look. "I was talking to Matt about it, and then he was talking to his friend about it. And then after, together, Matt and I decided that you two should go on a date. So, I scheduled you a date for Friday."

Food fell out of Keith's mouth.

"And don't say anything about working on Friday, because I know exactly what your schedule is for this week, and I'm pretty sure that if you stay late another time this month, someone is going to file a complaint about the stinky loner guy who's stuck to his chair on the fourth floor." Pidge nodded, clearly proud of herself. "Also, it would be me filing the complaint."

Keith did the dignified thing and closed his mouth. "No," he said. "Absolutely not."

"Keith," Pidge said, as close to whining as she ever got, opening her eyes puppy dog wide. "You have to."

"There is no reason I would go on a blind date with someone. No. I'm bus--" He cut himself off there, looked at Pidge’s face. He was not going to be busy on Friday, and he hated that Pidge knew that.

That was when Pidge began to smile. She'd known him for too long, she's under his skin.

Keith took an angry bite, desperately searching for any reason that he would be unable to go. The only one would be hanging out with Hunk and Lance, but he then faced the fact that this Friday was their six month anniversary that Lance had been going on about. "Fine," he said after he had chewed and swallowed.

At that time, Pidge was beaming. "Perfect." She grabbed his phone and unlocked it with her thumb print because of course, some time, without his knowledge, she had put it in. "I'll put in his number so you guys can talk and confirm Friday night plans. And then it won’t be a blind date!"

She then grabbed her container of honey walnut shrimp and flounced off to her room to do the work she avoided doing when actually at work.

The phone was across the room, and Keith was not much of a texter anyways. He bartered with himself that if the mysterious date that Pidge and her brother had decided was terrible enough to warrant sending keith to them, has not texted by tomorrow evening, he'd just forget about it. He finished dinner and threw the containers into the trash can before going to his shack of a bedroom and crashing onto the dirty clothes covered futon.

 

The name the number was under simply read as, “Shiro,” and after some Googling that Keith had been ashamed to do on his work desktop when the other application was running his numbers, Keith had found out that the number’s area code was from Florida. Keith shook his head at that. All he knew about Florida was that it was humid and that Disney World was there.

Keith closed out of the window and checked the application, which estimated another twenty minutes of processing in which Keith could use to do the pile of paperwork that had accumulated in the austere gray paper tray on the edge of his desk. He frowned, but pulled the first one out. Pidge was quick to remind him that even he, even as the estimated fastest rising junior of his department at their company, would have to keep up with the paperwork. He barely had grabbed his pen and calculator when his phone buzzed, relieving him of his duty.

Sighing in relief, Keith threw his hand across his desk to grab at the red case and turned it over and slid his finger across in a smooth motion, unlocking it. He opened his messages, ignoring the ones from Lance, and clicked Shiro’s name.

> Shiro: This for Friday at 8? :)
> 
> _See Attachment_

Fingers shaking ever so slightly, Keith opened the dark photo. Whatever the thing was, it was leather and metal, all wrapped up and soft-looking. His cheeks bloomed red and Keith fought the urge to hide under his desk. He slammed his phone face down on the desk and breathed for a few more seconds.

He controlled his breathing for a few beats before turning the phone back over again. The metal on the thing was shining copper clean and there seemed to be a lot of loops and round things connected to them. Keith did not zoom in.

He shut his phone and put it in the pocket of his not entirely business casual regulation jacket before marching down towards the elevator. He stepped in and jabbed his finger against the button for Pidge’s floor. The door opened on the floor between theirs, but Keith stared the woman in her perfect business casual skirt down, daring her to step in. She did not.

When the doors opened again, Keith stalked his way through the cubicles and into the back row. Pidge was sitting at her desk, her headphones on listening to something so loudly that the bass could be heard through them even though they were “noise cancelling.” Keith would know because he was there when she opened them up last Christmas.

With his arms crossed, he stood right behind her desk chair and watched her play pong on her computer. Tapping his foot and ignoring the glares of Pidge’s neighbor, Keith switched his glare from Pidge’s screen to the back of her neck.

Pidge finally looked up from her screen. She did not look shocked to see Keith standing behind her, while she spun around and raised an eyebrow. “What’s up?” she asked much too loudly.

Keith mimed removing the headphones, which she did.

“Who is this Shiro who you set me up with?” he hissed, quiet and hopefully out of range of Pidge’s neighbors.

Spinning her chair around, Pidge messed with her screen to close out of the pong app, before turning back to face him again. “One of Matt’s friends from college. I told you already. Why?”

Keith scrambled through his pockets for his phone and held it out for her.

After opening it up and looking at the picture, zooming in, and then out again, Pidge whistled loudly. “Well,” she said after a beat. “That was unexpected.”

“I know,” Keith growled. He ran a hand through his hair, which had grown out a little close to a mullet, against his will. But he was unable to find time to get it cut, so mullet it would stay.

 

After work, Keith and Pidge had gone downstairs, to the floor below their apartment to hang out at Lance and Hunk’s place where there was usually alcohol and food from the restaurant and bar where they two work.

Pidge, sitting on the couch with her legs sprawled wide, held Keith’s phone. “Lance! Look at this,” she drawled, already a few beers in. She was short and slight, and combined with what she already drank, Keith would be half dragging, half carrying her up the stairs to their apartment.

Lance sauntered over to flop beside her on the couch in a frighteningly similar pose while Keith watched from the counter, where he sipped on a glass of water from the tap. Hunk cooked at the stove, flipping hamburgers for the four of them.

“Aha!” Lance yelled, holding up Keith’s phone. “What is it? Damn, Pidge, did you set Keith up with a dom?” He stage whispered towards her ear. “We all know Keith needs that.”

Keith gritted his teeth.

“Remember the last time Keith brought someone home?” Lance asked the room suggestively, wiggling both of his eyebrows.

It had been years since Lance and Keith had gotten into a fist fight, Keith was willing to break that streak, despite the disappointment he would hear from Lance’s mom.

The last guy Keith had brought someone home, was not the one that Lance was referring to, but it was another one night stand whose name Keith had forgotten. The time that Lance was referring to was louder than usual, granted. If it had not been Lance and Hunk on the floor below, it would have been possible that there would have been a noise complaint registered.

“Shut the fuck up, Lance,” Keith said with the threat implied.

Lance just grinned cheekily back, but was too smart to say anything. Keith returned to nursing his water.

The night progressed. Pidge and Lance drank more and more. Lance, dragging Hunk over, to lay half way across his lap, and occasionally drag their faces together, while Hunk laughed and let him.

Pidge held onto Keith’s phone with a tighter and tighter hold. She laughed. “We should text him back.”

Pushing Hunk’s arm off of him, Lance wobbled up to sit back down next to Pidge. “Yeah,” he agreed.

“Oh, guys,” Hunk tried to interrupt, but Pidge shushed him.

Keith was dozing on the massive leather recliner.

“I don’t think that Keith is going to like this,” Hunk got out just as the woosh of a message sent chimed through the room.

> Keith: maybe dinner n a moive forst ;P

And like Keith had heard his name spoken, his eyes popped open, and over to his phone, which Lance giggled over. He held it and it had been his traitorous fingers which had typed out the words.

They had their faces on. The ones that Keith had seen a thousand times before something bad happened. Pidge and Lance could blow up their building with those faces on and there would be nothing Keith could do to stop it.

“What did you do?” he asked, seeing his phone in their hands.

Keith’s gaze passed over Hunk, who put his hands up. “I don’t know man, and I wasn’t a part of it.”

And then to Pidge, who guffawed into her hand, and Lance, who snorted with laughter after hearing Pidge’s own laugh.

Lance lifted up an arm and pointed at Keith, like all eyes were not already on him. His sloppy drunk grin was wicked when he said. “I texted BDSM guy.” He laughed and waved Keith’s phone in the air in a move that would have been mocking Keith’s height if he were not flopped like a doll on the couch.

“Pidge, we’re going home,” Keith growled as he got up from his spot and marched over to grab his phone out of Lance’s loose hand as Lance’s mouth popped open at the ease at which Keith was able to take it.

Pidge held onto the arm of the couch. “No,” she dragged out as Keith grabbed her other arm to throw over his shoulder. “So uptight.”

As Keith pulled her up, Hunk gave the two of them a salute as he did the same to a clingy whiny Lance, and pulled him towards the bedroom.

Yelling over Hunk’s shoulder, Lance agreed, “Yeah, Keith. So uptight lately. BDSM guy will pound it out of you after dinner and a movie.”

Keith, as he dragged Pidge towards the door, repeated his mantra internally. He would not get into any more fist fights with Lance. He would not get into any more fist fights with Lance.

 

Keith was on the treadmill before seven when his phone buzzed. After finishing his fourth mile, he slowed the speed from sprint to jog and picked it up. The text was from Shiro, whose name had been helpfully changed to (you guessed it) ‘BDSM Guy.’

> BDSM Guy: Is this Keith?

Keith typed out several things, including no less than three very accusatory questions and two angry ‘fuck off’s. He finally settled.

> Keith: yeah.

Seconds later, his phone buzzed again.

> BDSM Guy: Oops! I’m so sorry. Your number and my boss’ new one were messed up in my phone. That picture must have looked strange.
> 
> Keith: a little…
> 
> BDSM Guy: It’s not a sex thing, I promise. :)

Almost tripping over his own foot, Keith resolved his next text.

> Keith: maybe you can tell me about it on friday
> 
> Keith: also the text from last night was not me
> 
> Keith: but dinner and a movie sounds fine with me
> 
> BDSM Guy: Really? Okay. I’ll text you in a few about it. :)

 

Keith and Shiro texted intermittently throughout the day, in the unknown times of Shiro’s seemingly random schedule, and the times when Keith could be doing paperwork, but avoided it.

They resolved to go to a movie first, a new sci-fi about robots in space. Then, after, go out to eat at a nearby bistro. Keith had been careful to not reply to the texts immediately, but still checked them as soon as they buzzed in.

When Pidge came upstairs in a flight of boredom, one of Shiro’s texts had buzzed in. She leaned over the side of his cubicle. “Are you smiling, Keith?”

> BDSM Guy: I love movies about space. ;)

Keith frowned, still looking at his phone. “No.”

> Keith: me too

“Ground control to Keith?” Pidge said, waving her hand in front of his bangs.

Looking up, Keith frowns again. “What?”

“Who are you texting?”

“No one,” Keith quickly said, turning his phone over.

“Right.” Light glinted off of Pidge’s glasses menacingly and Keith shooed her away, pulling out his undone and massive pile of paperwork.

 

Keith was finding a parking space for his beloved red Kia Soul when he got the text from Shiro.

> BDSM Guy: Just parking! See you soon. :)

It occured in his head that he should have probably changed the contact on his phone, but it was too late. He parked and adjusted his scarf. It was too cold to go out without one and Pidge had thrown it at him as he’d rushed out.

He thanked whatever was out there that it was Lance and Hunk’s six-month-aversary because Pidge would have riled them up into following him.

> Keith: see you soon
> 
> Keith: just parked too

It also occured that Keith had no idea what Shiro looked like.

> Keith: i’m wearing a red sweater
> 
> BDSM Guy: It looks like I’m wearing all black. :(

Before he could even think of it, Keith had replied. His cheeks flamed.

> Keith: i’m sure you look good.

Tucking up his hood, Keith jogged into the cool for Southern California night and past the cupcake place to the front of the theatre. It was busy, Friday night and all, and Keith glanced around for all black.

“Keith?” someone asked

Keith spun around to find a guy. His mouth may have been watering, but the guy had an old scar across his nose and damn, if he looked good in black.

“Shiro?” Keith asked back in a steadier voice than what he expected he would be able to access.

White hair fell across Shiro’s face as he ducked his head down in a nod. Okay, he was maybe, two Keiths wide. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his black peacoat and he wore a black sweater with a white collar poking out.

“Well, you’re not wearing all black. Your shirt is white,” Keith blurted.

Shiro smiled. “Nice to meet you, too.” His voice was deep.

Yes, okay, Keith was going to thank Pidge for this. Maybe even send Matt a text in thanks, too.

 

“Yeah,” Shiro laughed, running his hand through the white in the front of his hair. “Matt put just your number in my phone, no name. And earlier that morning, my boss, Allura, put her new number in the same way. One of the horses stepped on her old phone.”

Sipping on his cocktail, Keith raised an eyebrow. “Horses? Is that why you sent that thing to me?”

Shiro blushed, pink up to his ears. “It’s a bridle. I’m still trying to find the right bit for my new project horse. He had a custom bit, but it was lost sometime.”

At Keith’s confused look, Shiro apologized. “Everyone I talk to, talks horses. I haven’t needed to explain anything in years.”

“Sorry,” Keith said, sullen.

“No, I like to explain things to you,” Shiro said, smiling.

Keith couldn’t help but to smile too. “Okay. So, tell me about it.”

**Author's Note:**

> to be continued, perhaps? Everyone may be (read:is) a little ooc. I've been NaNoWriMo-ing all month, and I think I may be stuck. Also if there's any sort of grammatical errors, feel free to mention it to me.


End file.
